Impetus
by Xandrabelle
Summary: The Turks care a lot for Rufus. Otherwise, why would Tseng, Elena and Reno go off to the Northern Crater for Jenova? Ser preAdvent Children.


Dealing with pain was turning out to be a far greater titanic task than Rufus ShinRa could have suspected. In his youth, he'd have scoffed at the possibility that he'd ever experience any pain that the best potions and materia couldn't alleviate. Now, lying on his back, struck down by the progress of a slow insidious disease for which there was no known cure, he knew how naive he'd been.

He tried to moderate his breathing, away from the wheeze of his exhausted lungs trying to drag air into its passages, anything not to stay the soft footsteps of the man retreating from his room. Eyes steadfastly shut, he feigned sleep, wishing that it was for real, but fully aware of the impossibility, not while under the throes of a full fledged attack of his Geostigma. But if he wasn't going to get any rest, he wasn't selfish enough to deny his companions the same.

At last, the click of the door signaled he was alone and he allowed a soft shuddery whimper to escape his lips. Rufus quickly bit down on his lip, stifling the sound just in case it prompted the return of the one who'd just left. It didn't and he sank back under his sheets, desperately seeking warmth despite his raging fever.

A soft conversation outside filtered into his ears.

"Is he asleep, Tseng-san?" Elena's higher pitched voice was unmistakable.

"I think so," Tseng replied quietly. "At least he's not convulsing anymore."

"It's getting worse, isn't it, yo?" Reno's usually cocky voice was glum.

A long silence greeted that comment, as if everyone was assessing the import of that remark.

"The doctors say he's progressing well," Rude said at last, in tones that spelled his skepticism.

Reno's huff was loud enough to display just what he thought of that statement.

"He's having more bad days than good ones nowadays," Elena agreed dejectedly.

The next words surprised Rufus for their candor.

"He's going to die unless we do something," Tseng said with a measure of grimness only reserved for the most deadly of mission briefings.

"But what can we do that the doctors can't, Tseng-san?"

"We should be able to do something. We're Turks, yo! We're not here just for administrative research!" 

If his head hadn't been splitting, Rufus would have smiled at Reno's enthusiasm and confidence. He really wished that his Turks could find a way out for him.

Tseng cleared his throat. "There could be something..."

The chorus of demands for answers would have woken Rufus up, if he'd actually been asleep. He imagined Tseng pinning them all with his steely gaze when they fell silent.

"We could go find Jenova's head. It's been proven that Jenova cells can make people stronger."

"You mean go into the Northern Crater, yo?"

"Yes. It's a small chance but perhaps the scientists might use it to buy us some time to save the Shachou."

"You're not leaving me behind, Tseng-san!"

"All right. Reno you bring the helicopter," Tseng said, his tones laced with determination.

Rufus personally thought Tseng was grasping at slim straws. But as he opened his mouth to call them in and tell them not to bother, another painful spasm ripped through his body. Blue flashes shot before his eyes, prompting him to clutch at his sheets in desperation to stave off the waves of nerve wrenching pain. He did his best to ignore the messy black ooze flowing from the back of his hand. By the time he fell back into the mattress panting, it was obvious that the Turks had left.

He looked up from his breathless gasping to see Rude hurrying to his side, obviously left behind to babysit.

"It's all right, take deep breaths, Shachou," Rude said, patting him soothingly on the back..

"Gotta stop them," Rufus growled and frowned when Rude shook his head. "It's dangerous there!"

"We're used to danger, sir. Let them do this. We can't sit around and watch you hurt anymore," Rude said in what amounted to a speech from him.

Rufus fell back and allowed his bodyguard to tuck him back under the covers. "I hate this," he grumbled and took the damp cloth Rude handed him to slap on his feverish forehead. "But I want to get well again." 

"You will, Shachou. We'll make sure that you do."


End file.
